


(you'll remember this)

by addictedtoacertainlifestyle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Forbidden Love, Implied Sexual Content, Stream of Consciousness, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, what's the backstory for them? i don't know it either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 20:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16353947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedtoacertainlifestyle/pseuds/addictedtoacertainlifestyle
Summary: A steady heartbeat; one look given, one returned. Again, and again.They are the waves, together in motion until the universe collapses or the Earth dries out. After that, they continue, orbit around one another like celestial bodies, perihelion and aphelion, closer and farther in a never-ending dance. Again, and again.





	(you'll remember this)

**Author's Note:**

> it makes sense that my second published fic is one which didn't even exist until today. it's very much a raw, unpolished thing i want to get out to the world right now, and as i don't have a beta right now, it probably has more than a few mistakes. so, forgive me for those.
> 
> this has probably the most amount of angst i'll write, just because. it's also the most poetic thing i've ever done. i just wanted to write and this is what came out of it.
> 
> the small three titles in the fic are from Icarus by Bastille - i just thought they fit the theme rather well. the main title is technically from the song as well, but the actual line is "you won't remember this." i've always heard it as "you will", so, there's that, i guess.
> 
> do leave kudos and comment if you enjoyed, it'd make me extremely happy. especially with this particular style; it's something i've never tried before and i'd love to hear your opinion on it. or, you can find me on tumblr @ abstractragedy and drop me a line over there.
> 
> i'll see you again at the end of this month! i'm almost done with my Reylo Monster Week piece ;)

\--

i : protect the flames

  Morning comes, just like every day before.

  It’s almost seven, minutes running by but there’s no light outside yet. Or inside – the illusion of an empty house is executed to near perfection. Rey stares out to the deep nothingness, darkness hiding away the well-trimmed backyard she knows to go on for a mile. After that comes the forest, the deep green pines and rustling in the undergrowth. The primal and the simple.

  She blows on her tea for it to cool, a gentle scent of peppermint reaching her. Ben is not one for tea – he prefers coffee with a splash of milk and no sugar – but he has made sure that the house is stocked with that one particular brand of peppermint loose-leaf tea, just for her, whenever she stops by for a _visit_.

  Now, the scent only reminds her of him, the floorboards creaking under their feet as the house whispers its quiet words to them, empty besides the two of them. It’s the scent of the massive kitchen, the windows and the yard, the forest somewhere out of her reach. It reminds her of his touch, always so languid, never in a hurry; he’s so good at pretending, making the hours seem so much longer than what they really are.

  A weekend has never felt this long, this exquisite. Warmth runs through her at the thought, thinking about the hours before and it is not just from the tea, the solid pressure that settles into her heart in the form of small love-fed embers. Nothing will spoil her elated feeling, for this small moment all is well and she has never felt happier.

  Until the sun rises. She will have to run when it happens.

  She sets the empty cup on a countertop and begins a trek back to the bedroom they’ve been sharing. The hallways are not lit, but she doesn’t need light to find her way back to him. She listens to the house; the whispers between the walls, in the old paintings; the small space between each floorboard, the spirits listening to them, to her. She hopes they're jealous.

  Ben’s still asleep, splayed across the king-sized bed, his back rising and falling in the steady rhythm of his breathing. Blankets kicked half-way off before he even fell asleep in favour of holding her close, of feeling her skin against his. Every moment between them, every time they get to share a bed together like this is precious, sacred, and he makes good use out of all of them. Something she is glad about.

  She lies down beside him, studies the mop of hair that hides away his face. Her hand runs through the cowlicks and untamed curls, revels in the feel of something so smooth and soft; one of the greatest things her hands have had the honour to touch.

  The sun begins to rise. Open curtains let the light flood in, building a surreal glow around him. A god fallen in hibernation, soon to be awakened by his mischievous lover before she runs off into the sunrise.

  “Ben, wake up.”

  Rey whispers the worlds onto his temple, and in answer he gives a deep sigh, turning over to look at her, eyes blinking off sleep.

  “Is it seven already?” comes his sleep-ridden question, disappointment hidden away but still recognized by her.

  She doesn’t have to say anything: the silence tells him more than any words ever could.

  In an instance he is over and above her, pinning her efficiently against the sheets before she claims his mouth in a kiss. This morning, he is desperate, and the fact that in a moment she will be gone once more bleeds through his lips, stains her skin with remorse she so badly wishes she wouldn’t have to carry. They both possess them, the regrets, the what if’s, the quiet thoughts that are never shared.

  They’re home, but still homesick. Right next to each other, but still too far apart. He is inside her as deep as he can be, their sweat-slicked bodies so close, his forehead on her shoulder and her hands claw his back – and the ache doesn’t vanish. It taunts them even when he holds her close afterwards.

  He stands on the porch to watch her go, escape into the morning before anyone comes looking. As if she’d never been there, beside him.

  In the kitchen he sees her cup left on the counter. The peppermint lingers.

\--

ii : feel it in your chest

  The ocean is quiet, waves calm in the midday sun. Seagulls recount their daily activities high above, and the sand ebbs and flows beneath their feet like another ocean, solid and steadfast.

  After announcing a few white lies to their respective friends he drove them here, to a small, secluded beach that hasn’t seen anyone but them in years. This place is one of sanctity, a haven for those who have yet to reach their home. It is a place to find yourself if you’re lost.

  Rey finds few beautiful seashells, walks in and out with the waves, beckons Ben to follow. After three attempts he relents beneath her teasing smiles and giggles. He can’t resist her; never would dream of doing so.

  There are no walls to keep them at bay, no need to run off and hide before anyone sees. Only a vast ocean remains, and their love that reaches far and wide, all the way behind the horizon.

  They let their clothes get wet from the water, walking along the shoreline with intertwined hands and listening to the repetitive push and pull of the waves: a grainy roar as the crest breaks and arrives to the shore, a quiet retreat back. Again, and again.

  A steady heartbeat; one look given, one returned. Again, and again.

  They are the waves, together in motion until the universe collapses or the Earth dries out. After that, they continue, orbit around one another like celestial bodies, perihelion and aphelion, closer and farther in a never-ending dance. Again, and again.

  Ben pulls her to the water and she follows, delving deep until their shirts are flush against their chests and their interlocked hands are hidden beneath the surface. The water is cold but neither of them care, pressed as close one another as they can, sharing the heat emitting from their bodies. For a moment Rey hopes she could sink, dive under the waves like a bird hunting for fish; break the surface once more and fly towards the sun – towards _him_ – even if it burns her wings.

  The water makes her weightless, and her legs wrap around his waist with ease while hands grasp and pull and tear the clothes open enough for them to run across miles of skin. His mouth maps a familiar pathway down her neck to her chest where it laps the salty droplets of water, counts the freckles on her collarbones. She kisses any part of him she can reach; the shell of his ear, his hairline, his brow.

  This is a moment of celebration, a fleeting second of freedom. Something longed for, and finally achieved. His unrestrained touch upon her is the sweetest victory she could ever have.

  The ocean sways them back and forth but Ben keeps his balance, so the movement is only soothing. The sun beats down upon them, a blessing from the skies, nature as their witness. Here, they are nothing but what they choose to be; savage animals, bleeding for each other, fighting for battles that were never theirs to pick; two lonely souls, rushing through this life to be together in the next. One, singular being, living by the currents, never asking for anything more than _this_.

 _This_ is all they will ever need.

  They will do anything for _this_.

\--

iii : take another breath

  The city is a new one, and getting accustomed to it is the biggest task they have faced. It gives them time, but not too much. Dwelling on what was is not what they’re supposed to do; focusing on what is ahead is what they _need_ to do.

_We need to let the past die, Rey. Come with me. Leave it all behind. We can start over, together._

  Indeed, what was there, holding her down? Everything else but him has become superfluous.

  Their shared apartment is a small one, a few blocks away from the main road, next to the city’s train station. She has taken on a hobby to count the trains that stop there during the day. Once at four in the morning, then at seven. Again at half past eleven, one more at three. Two trains come by in short intervals between six and seven, and then the last one of the day at quarter to midnight.

  They took the train too, once, to go back to the beach. But while the place is beautiful, it is not needed anymore. Here, they can be as loud as they want, as close as they want, and the city won’t care.

  He has stopped buying the peppermint tea, and opts for cinnamon instead. The bed they share is a queen-sized one, smaller in size but still endlessly comfortable. Candles and lamps are everywhere, scattered in the apartment to ensure that no place is left without light.

  The traces of _before_ are left behind, and new memories, traditions and routines are built every day.

  For a fearful, silent moment Rey imagined it wouldn’t work. What if they weren’t meant to be, after all? What if the flame in them was only kept alive because of the secret nature of their love?

  She said this to him, whispered it during the ten-hour drive to their new home. The sick-yellow streetlights went by as they drove, the sun long gone; perfect time for hesitation.

  “Well, I know I’m always going to love you, no matter what happens or where we are. But if it’s too much, we can go back. This- This was my idea, after all.”

  He’s always been on her side, she realised, always making leaps to put her comfort before his. But she also realised he’s never made decisions she couldn’t accept.

  She looked at him, his eyes on the endless road, studied the sharp profile of his, a face so dear to her. The want, the need, the _love_ is right there, in her heart; such a permanent part of her being that she cannot put it apart from who she is. Maybe she has always had it, even before she was born. It would make sense the most; to have known him from another life, reaching towards him in this, and then in the next.

  “I’m sorry for saying that. I love you, Ben, I love you so much, and I _want_ to do this, truly. But what if things go wrong? What do we do then?”

  “I don’t know. Neither do you. And… I guess we just have to live with that.”

  They did, and they succeeded. For that, she will always be grateful.

  Now, the fall has arrived. Rey drinks her weight in cinnamon tea and Ben indulges himself with overpriced and overseasoned lattes from a coffee shop down their street. They both pick up knitting, spend hours in the silence together. They go to work, come home, do everything else in between. All things mundane; all things she could never take for granted. Because once she thought she’d never have them.

  They reminisce of the past sometimes, unable to fully forget – but that’s to be expected. The memories are only sweet now instead of bitter, because they have atoned for it all, reached for the stars and landed themselves among them. Still in the orbit of one another, now only closer. The dramatic early-morning escapes and frantic love-making on the beach is gone now, replaced with something real, something that lasts.

  Their story didn’t end in a tragedy. Next week, Rey will propose to Ben, and if she has her way, they’ll elope the next.

  She knows he’ll say yes. Because _she_ would, if he asked.


End file.
